


King Philip Came Over From Great Spain

by Nobodyhasblindedme



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alien Biology, F/F, For the most part, M/M, Meteorstuck, Multi, Other, Tags May Change, Weird Biology, Xenobiology, it's rosemary and davekat my dudes, mostly it's kids exploring the wonderful world of Hey I Guess Aliens Are A Real Thing Guys, some xenophilia if you cock your head and squint, with some...hesitant daverezi?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 01:31:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19074748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nobodyhasblindedme/pseuds/Nobodyhasblindedme
Summary: We're not gonna go full 'War of the Worlds' here folks, but let's put it on the table where we can all see it: we're not DISCOUNTING 'Alien' either.-So, three years is actually something kinda sorta approaching a 'bitchfuck of a long ass time', and there's only so much you can avoid one another on a meteor with a limited amount of rooms.What better way to occupy yourselves then with uh. Yourselves.It's not like you've ever seen a real alien before.





	King Philip Came Over From Great Spain

**Author's Note:**

> Look, we're all weird af to someone! Humans got some freaky shenanigans going on with our biology, and I think the trolls would be just as fascinated with us as we are with them! Chapters will switch points of view, and yes I claim this space to go hog wild with my own troll biology headcanons, but it will mostly center around them figuring out humans and our little quirks. 
> 
> This is mostly unedited, heads up. Just some musings and drabbles about alien kids meeting alien kids.
> 
> Bonus points for whoever gets the title. Love me some. Weird-ass titles.

 

You’d never thought about what it might be like to be among the presence of aliens. 

Looking back in idle moments, of which there are assuredly many, you think about all the movies you’d seen, the literatorture of the military and your own caste-specific propaganda. Books and essays and reports let out publicly about Her Imperious’s latest conquest on some backwater desolate rock of a planet where the life there was so primitive they truly saw her as a glowing god of wrath and beauteous horror descending from nowhere to end their pitible lives of suffering without her presence.

Karkat was never usually one for those types of films. Thankfully. You yourself found that after a number of them Vriska had sent you in a fit of pique and Aradia had sent you in a fit of...what you’re not sure to this day is disgust, awe, or overly intense interest...that you had absolutely no interest whatsoever in the depiction. 

Poor little aliens, so low, so ugly, so un-troll-like who could ever see them as anything more than something that would be lucky to be wiped clean from the slate of the galaxy? So small, so drab, so similar, not a hint of real castes between them…

The idea was everywhere, of course. Aliens and their subjuggla - er - their subjugation was a career both lauded and feared. (Karkat certainly filled your logs and public posting rooms with assurances of his ascent to Thresh status one day. You never were quite sure what you made of his claims then, but in times of boredom when you go looking back at them now, you do pick up on the hysterical note behind all of them that getting to spend time with the real Karkat has taught you to notice. Assurances to you and the rest more like pleas to look the other way.)

However any of the others thought about them, you knew, deep down, it didn’t really matter what you’d think of strange, curious beings from other worlds and other cultures were like. Their hideous daily habits and horrific lack of any properly hierarchical and policed social structures. 

You were jade. 

Your life of sunlight and wonder and stars and whatever or whoever lay beyond them would end at the day of your Ordeals and assuming your role in society.

 

And then the sky fell. 

 

And then you were in a place of rays of light and multiplying frogs. 

 

And then it all went violent, and staticy, and dark. And everyone was dying, or dead, or killing, or reviving. 

 

And then you were alone. 

  
  
  


And then she came.

 

Your name is Kanaya Maryam, and you are now living with aliens. 

 

-

 

You’re not sure what you’re seeing at first. 

It’s easy to miss. It’s certainly not like you’re looking for it, as much as the lot of you had been so clearly eyeing each other up upon first encounter, deny loudly and rancorously all you like Karkat, if that makes you feel better. You had been. Mm. Rather been... _preoccupied_ with the fact you were now living a legend of your people, in a place where neither time (Time) nor space (Space) in any previous understanding of the concepts existed, you were routinely assaulted with unwanted all-too-real run-ins with itterations of dead friends and foes. And also meeting one Rose Lalonde. 

An. Alien. 

The meteor isn’t...hively, certainly, despite your best efforts with rug and drape and tapestry, cleverly hung and slung to round out the sharp corners in the ‘communal’ area, and the small storage room you’ve claimed as your personal block. It’s ceilings are high, and the hallways are long and often not favorably lit. At least, so Rose tells you when she mentions Dave may be taking his own drawings too seriously when he nearly went down a flight of stairs simply for not seeing them, adequately warned or no. 

The corridors are also home to a number of vents for the laboratory's no doubt extensive aeration system. Easily...accessible vents. 

In anycase, you find yourself loitering about the communal-use block, perhaps considering if you are truly hungry and want to spend the time and energy getting up the gaul to beg-off someone’s neck (you’ve not seen Karkat in hours and after the nervous fit he had the last time you...required him, you were beginning to wonder if asking Terezi might actually be the easier option, despite her moods lately) when you hear the aforementioned ventilation kick on. 

It’s not quiet, and your delicate horns can pick up the ever-so-slight vibration from the metal grates covering the shafts, the change in air temperature immediate. 

There’s a sigh from beside you. 

You turn and Rose sidles up, almost silent in those cloth wrappings the Seer class thought deserving of the name ‘shoes’. The light in the labs, even with your combined efforts (and no small amount of puns later) is...for most of your species’s taste, lovely and dim, but for you, it’s dreary and wan. Even so, as Rose reaches for one of the many mugs kept on the counter (that’s rather suspiciously shaped like a can and oddly metallic for porcelain; some lateday alchemy was certainly involved you think..) her hair still manages to catch in the minimal light of the room. 

You don’t know why, but something about that catches your eye in a way it hadn’t before. 

As you continue your catching of various ocular organs, you can see how...how _fine_ the strands are, small filaments drifting here and there in the vent’s air flow. They whisp about, and you think in the few seconds it takes Rose to shift back with the mug in hand and turn to you, if they weren’t so light colored they wouldn't look nearly nonexistent in the darker shadows your collection of lamps does little to push back. 

“Mh..” Rose hums to herself, and you shake off the impulse to hum right back - you’ve heard Dave do it too, and long ago determined it must mean something else to humans then a want of acknowledgement for treatsie. (If you ever hear such a sound from watery, glubbing fishboy lungs again though, you swear..) 

She reaches up to rub an arm, the semi-half sleeves of her godhood clothing doing nothing to ward off the slight chill to her skin. 

And then you see it happen. 

Small - you don’t even know at first - _bumps_ rise across her skin suddenly, and you blink, even as you can hear she’s asking you a question. (Likely at your now-quite-rude staring, just outright gawking, Kanaya, really.) But they. Her skin, it. 

_It’s hair._

You look up, and as she shifts her head one way, the light, again, catches ever so on her skin.

_There, on her cheek, is a very fine layer of. Hair._ So thin and small and fine it dances in and out of actual visibility. 

“Kanaya!” Rose calls, and you jolt a little. 

Your own scalp is tingling and you practically feel the ring around your pupil expand in shame. 

“I - I’m sorry!” You apologize immediately, feeling more the fool. “I was - there - I was trying to remember if I’d. Lent something to you. Earlier. Which is why I was here. Looking for you. And...not quite hearing you.” 

A delicate brow had gently begun to drift upwards as your words stuttered out with increasing horror at their own being, and note with a slightly unseated sense that _there’s hair too, above her eye, around her eye in little barbules, light and almost transparent against her skin.._

Rose blinks. “Lent me something?” 

“Yes.” Stop. 

“..Such as?” 

“...Another book, perhaps?” Oh, gog. 

Rose’s mouth quirks, and you follow the movement with your eyes for fear of having to direct their looking into her own. “You don’t remember if you loaned me something or not?”

You decide to ask Terezi later to toss a coin to see if the business end of your own chainsaw would be a good action for you to take. For now you only shrug. 

After a long silence, wherein you double down on your promise to yourself as you realize Rose might have actually been waiting for you to say something, she turns back to the counter, and places the Man (can-mug) into the...food pod. (You’re sure one of you came up with a much better name for it…) 

“Well, I can assure you that any literature on this meteor will without fail end up in the claws of one self-claimed connoisseur of the stuff at one point or another. If you’re missing a novel or two ,maybe he’s found them?” 

You allow yourself to smile at the thought of (moiralfriendbestfriendpalematesomething) Karkat sitting in some snooty highblood parlor decked to the tens and advocating for the Empire’s finest drivel, as a true tome carnoisseur would. He’d love that, you think. 

“Oh, probably. It’s not like I haven’t just..lost things myself though. Or perhaps our noble architects of The Town of Cans have made off with it in the odd hours.” 

“To be fair, it’s probably finding better use there then all its days only as it was.” 

Rose is smiling back at you properly now. In the gloaming of the high ceilings and darkness that seems impossible to remove from every corner and the warm yellow light of sidetable lamps, her skin looks _velvety_ under the inscrutable layer of. 

Fur. 

Humans are covered in fur. 

_You are very, very glad they do not know about trolls, because Dave’s shades could not cover your iris rings, and you intend to keep it that way._


End file.
